


You'll Be Waiting

by momothespicy (momothesweet)



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Casual Sex, Couch Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Light Angst, Reader-Insert, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17640437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothespicy
Summary: It starts with a shoulder touch and a deep "Hey."It actually works.





	You'll Be Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a month late, but happy 2019! I wrote this last month for the amazing [Bon!](https://twitter.com/heylookitsbon)
> 
> Enjoy your sexy stuff with a side of somber :D

It’s a weeknight. You don’t expect to see anyone savory here.

A little corner bar in Brooklyn isn’t exactly a babe magnet. You just like to come here because it’s close to work and you don’t want to wait until you get home to start forgetting about your day. Your expectations are low to none. That includes the drinks.

There’s some breaking newscast on the TV mounted over the bar about Spider-Man saving Brooklyn (again). Nobody in the bar seems to care either way. This place really is for the indifferent and the cynical, not that that isn’t a bad thing. Sometimes, a symbol of hope isn’t enough for people. Still, it’s a little bit of good in the world. You can enjoy it for what it is.

The front door dings open and you can’t help but look at another poor face coming in for cheap beer. Except the person doesn’t have a poor face. He’s got a handsome one, as a matter of fact.

The more rational part of you says not to bother. Clearly, he looks tired from whatever shift he just finished. Dazed eyes, leaning too close to the counter across from you, and what looks like a bruise on his neck. And yet, he still looks good, smiling at the bartender and sliding over his cash in one swift motion. Don’t do it, you think to yourself, he’s not worth the trouble.

Your thoughts are wrong sometimes.

Right when you talk yourself into making a huge mistake, you look across again and find that he’s already gone. There’s a steady weight that suddenly covers your shoulder, then a sultry gaze that captures your full attention.

“Hey.”

You’re taken aback for two reasons: one, because one of the cheesiest moves has just been used on you, and two, because it  _ actually works _ . The man takes a seat in the stool next to you, catching the drink that slides down his way. Whiskey on the rocks. Classy.

“Hey yourself,” you respond with a sly smile, sipping your drink like you’re a coy student trying to deter your gaze from the cute jock. “Come here often?”

He laughs. It’s a rich, bubbly sound that wakes up something in you that’s been dormant for way too long. No no no, you repeat, you’ve only known him for about thirty seconds. Calm down. You can ask for water to quench your thirst more properly.

“I guess I should if it attracts pretty girls like you,” he answers.

“Ah, pretty girls like me?” you smirk. “So I’m guessing you’re not interested in me in particular, then.”

“Wait wait wait.” He leans back a second and you can’t help but laugh. It’s fun to corner people like this, to let them think about their pickup lines and regroup their thoughts. He seems to recover quickly, because he comes back for more, a little closer this time, and replies, “What’s a smart chick like you doing in a place like this?”

You shrug. Glad to know that he’s acknowledged your wit. “Stress relief. Escape. What about you? Here to test your moves?”

“Are they working?”

You lean in a little bit closer. “A little.”

 

Turns out, his moves are golden. Platinum, maybe, or that’s just the alcohol speaking and you’re being too generous. Aaron, as you’ve learned, is a hands-on kind of hookup, getting to know every dip and curve and imperfection adorning your body. Might be quick at doing so, but let’s face it: you’re sure to take off tomorrow morning and you’ll be all but a distant memory to him.

For the time being, you enjoy his kisses and lips trailing everywhere they can go. You lie atop his bed, topless, returning his gestures with strokes of your own up and down his back. He didn’t look like a gym rat upon first glance, but based on how he easily carried you to his bedroom and how you’re able to freely trace practically every superficial muscle on his back, you stand very, very corrected. As an added bonus, he likes it when you touch him just like this, if those rough little groans in your ear mean something.

In no time, the rest of your clothes and his come off. You lie back, bare for a man who’s clearly been working out for a long time, a man who looks like he’s going to fuck the inebriation out of your system. You grin when he comes back in for a kiss, his fingers running down your side and making a home between your legs. Two slip inside easily. The moan that escapes you is uncharacteristically loud and, honestly, embarrassing.

“Shh.” He kisses you again, attempting to contain the noise within these four thin walls. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby. Just you wait.”

The sound of his voice is enough to get you even more drenched. He pulls his fingers out and sucks them off. While he does that, on top of grabbing a condom, you spread your legs in a slick, open invitation that needs to be answered right away. Aaron gets it.

He fucks hard and fast, hands still roaming around you like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your body. Whatever the reason, you don’t really care. Your entire being is heated to the core and you can’t help but wrap your legs around his hips, encouraging him to move deeper, to hit that sweet spot just right as your brain goes fuzzy. He finds it after a handful of tries and you moan loudly again, reaching down to rub your clit and get yourself even closer to coming.

When he hits that spot again, you lose it. Tightening around him, you come, clutching the sheets with your free hand and arching up ever so slightly as you moan to the ceiling and whoever may be within earshot. As your thighs quake around him, he fills the condom, growling his way through his orgasm and making you clench around him again.

Heavy breaths fill the room once the hormones die down. You drop your legs onto his bed, a good firm mattress that might be good to sleep in once in a while when your back hurts. Though, sleeping here doesn’t seem like an option. Once Aaron pulls out of you and strolls off to dispose of the condom, you rise from bed and start looking around for your clothes. There’s a bit of a tingle that runs through your legs. A good sign.

He doesn’t question you when he comes out of the bathroom and you’re double checking that you have everything: your phone, your wallet, your dignity. What he’s able to do, though, is lead you to the front door and give you a kiss goodnight.

“Be safe,” he says. “There are some real crooks out there.”

You snort. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

The last thing that rings in your ears that night is his laugh when you wave goodbye.

 

You see him again at the bar on a Saturday night. And again on a subsequent Friday night. Each time, you exchange your pleasantries and get right to business. No bad pickup lines (this time), no small talk. It’s a good little addition to your life; usually, you’re not into the casual dating scene, but given all the other elements in your life that require so much of your attention and mental health, you’re happy to just have someone to go to for some relief. Besides his bed (or his couch), Aaron keeps his distance and so do you.

On another weeknight, you make yourself comfortable on the couch with a soulful 70s jam bumping from the speakers on either side of the couch. You’ve come to learn that he’s a music kind of guy. Good taste abounds, given the beat and the way he works his lips up your bare thighs. There’s an interesting sort of power that flows through you. You’re on the couch and he’s on his knees right in front of you, sucking your skin and turning you on with every passing second. You’ve come to learn that Aaron’s good at that. Not many words are exchanged because he’s using his mouth to suck tiny marks into your thighs.

“Fuck,” you sigh, leaning back into the leather and spreading your legs wider. It’s a silent invitation for him to keep going, to keep it up so you can get off.

After teasing a touch longer, your thighs littered with little marks and saliva, his tongue finds its residence in your cunt. As he keeps your thighs apart with strong arms, he eats you out slowly, kissing you in earnest between sucking your clit and licking every drop of wetness that slicks your skin. It’s good that he’s well fit and able to hold you apart; your thighs won’t stop trembling thanks to him.

Aaron seems to enjoy himself in this position, looking up occasionally to watch you fall apart, piece by piece. The song completely becomes background noise and your heart beats due to the sound of him slurping you up, not so much the treble or bass. The moment he lets go of one of your thighs and inserts a long finger inside you, you’re questioning whether or not any of this is real.

It’s real, alright, and when he inserts a second finger and sucks your clit, you know it’s like a dream come true. He pumps his fingers in and out, coating them thickly and getting you to come in almost no time. Your free leg lifts and stretches and curls while you do so. Getting a hold of the couch is a hard thing to do, so you opt for digging your nails into your own palms. While slightly painful, you don’t linger on the sensation for very long when he withdraws from your pussy and stands to stroke his cock.

You look up, clenching at nothing, watching him with eager eyes as he plans to finish on some part of your body. Giving him the not-so-subtle hint by squeezing your tits, he curses and spills himself right on target, painting you with white as he groans through the music. You’re a priceless work of art in that moment, though Aaron only gets to look at you for a few seconds before taking a phone call.

“Yeah?” His face hardens and he nods as if his boss is right there in front of him. “Yes, sir. I’ll be there right away.” 

You sit up and reach for the tissues at his coffee table, beginning to wipe away the remnants of another fling. “Work?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a little tension in his voice, already looking for his clothes and getting them back on. “You should go.”

“As if I don’t leave right after we fuck,” you chuckle. He doesn’t laugh with you.

There’s something odd about him when you get your clothes back on. It’s like he wants you to hurry up, to get the hell out of his place so he can leave and take care of whatever he has to do for work. The music cuts out abruptly and he’s already got the door open for you while you fix your hair and get your shoes on. Maybe this has gone long enough and you should really go to another bar next week. Or vice versa.

You make haste and head for the door. Right as you’re about to turn sharply down the stairs, he takes your hand by surprise and you stop.

“Be safe out there, alright?”

It’s an odd goodbye while acting like he is now, but you nod. “Yeah. You too.”

You see him again the following week. This time, you don’t spot him at the bar. You’re taking the week off from alcohol, opting for a night in with your favorite sandwich from the bodega near your place and whatever mediocre movie Netflix will recommend you. The food smells good and you’re ready to enjoy yourself when you spot Aaron walking towards the same street corner. In some strange shock, like you’ve spotted a New York cryptid, you nearly trip in your tracks. Doubly so, because he looks as tired as ever.

“Holy shit. I’ve never seen you outside the bar.”

“And I’ve never seen you outside my apartment,” he winks. “How you doin?”

“I can ask you the same thing,” you say, eyeing him up and down and noticing his slouch and some stray cuts on his arms. It’s not the first time you’ve seen him roughed up like this. You don’t usually address it when you see him, though it’s more concerning now that you see it more prominently at sunset. “You okay?”

He nods too quickly. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. And yourself?”

You hold up your plastic bag of food and drink. “Night in. Wanna come?”

Aaron snickers. “Hey, baby, I know you’re forward but—“

“Come on,” you say impulsively, swinging the bag towards him. “We can just chill. No pressure.”

He thinks about your offer, as if you’re  _ actually  _ thinking about your relationship/not really relationship with him, then shrugs. “Alright. You got chips to go with that sandwich?”

 

Of course you’ve got some chips to go with your sandwich. In your apartment for the first time, Aaron relaxes on your couch that’s definitely not as nice as the Chesterfield at his place. In fact, your place is nowhere near as personable or, let’s be real here, as  _ cool _ as his place. It makes you wonder, finally, what exactly he does to afford all those cool things. 

That thought is pushed aside for now in favor of the scene before you, a well-trained warrior fighting his way through a gauntlet of henchmen. You pretend to not notice Aaron mimicking some of the moves in the air. It’s kind of cute. He even repeats some of the lines verbatim. 

_ “Do not fight if you do not plan on winning.” _

The fight goes on, along with the dramatic, fast-paced music that flows so well with the sequence. You’re immersed in both the movie and Aaron’s delight. You nearly drop the last bite of your sandwich when he knocks your arm and points at the screen. 

“And see, look at his form here. It’s incredible that one man could do all of this.”

“I see,” you reply, smiling wider. “It’s incredible that you’ve got this entire movie memorized.”

“And you don’t?”

You laugh, crumpling up the parchment paper in your hands and tossing away the trash. Settling in, the movie (and Aaron) is indeed a treat to watch. As promised, it’s a chill evening with little interruption. Aaron’s phone vibrates a few times here and there, and while it looks like he wants to answer those messages, he sets his phone aside and gets an arm around you. However, you notice him wince when he tries to move.

Ideally, you should ask what’s really up. You notice the scars and the soreness, the headaches and the nights where he wants to go slower. Besides Spider-Man (the conversation can get “too deep” and you accept that), work is always off the table when you two talk. That doesn’t mean, though, that you’re not just a bit worried.

The climax of the movie hits and plot points begin to resolve with a bang. It’s a good time for you to place a hand on his chest, carefully leaning on him so you both can cuddle up on the couch. He kisses your temple, runs his fingers up and down your side and creates that tingle that will soon become a burn you’ve grown to crave. Once you’re heated, you make the move and kiss his cheek. You don’t want to distract him from the movie just yet.

His attention starts to falter when your lips linger in this position, the tip of your nose brushing against his skin. Aaron squeezes your hip, the amount of energy minimal, and you turn his head towards you so you can give him a proper kiss. He kisses back and he pulls you in closer, so close that he winds up lying down on your couch and you come with him. There’s not a whole lot of room to move in this position. Judging by how he wants to be under you tonight, and how he doesn’t ask where your bedroom is, you can make do. You don’t mind at all.

It feels like forever when you two shed your clothes. The bruises and cuts are sparsely scattered throughout Aaron’s body. When you just barely graze over them, he takes your hands, almost too urgently, and brings them to his lips for more kisses. You get the hint.

The slow friction between you two burns in the best way, a way that’s different from all the other nights you’ve been with him. It’s still firmly in your head that this isn’t going to go anywhere, this isn’t supposed to go anywhere. However, your brain juggles that affirmation with the faintest possibility that you may discover something deeper. This is all in thanks to the way he runs his hands up your skin with more intent to feel you, all of you. You don’t know what’s happening, but you want to keep going.

You reach between his legs and stroke him until he’s rock hard and ready for you. It doesn’t take long. It doesn’t take long to grab his pants from the floor to dig up a condom, either. That smolder when you straddle his hips is heavenly, as is his covered cock when you slowly sink down on it. One of your knees digs between the couch and the cushions to stay steady. Though, it’s not a sensation that you actively think about as you’re filled once again, cursing under your breath.

Your moans are soft when you ride him. Aaron gets the perfect view of your tits bouncing, your hair falling just right on your face, your legs trembling for more. Each push down is hotter, wetter, and you move faster when you hear him groan, too. Your view isn’t so bad, either. As he rubs your thighs, his muscles flex to rock his hips up towards you, bringing you closer to coming. You can see the concentration behind the enjoyment on his face; it pays off when he angles himself subtly enough to hit that spot inside of you.

It drives you to move faster, drives him to rub your clit. You chase your orgasm and catch it with a slap right down on Aaron’s cock, thighs squeezing around him as you hold his hand and the couch. Arching your back, you moan his name, fucking your way through the wetness and helping him find his orgasm, too. He does with ease, trembling under you, as well. You immediately come down to frame his face with your hands and kiss him, swaying your hips to help finish him off.

The silence is deafening when you slide off of him and help clean up. Your TV awaits another movie selection and your vocal cords await a signal to start moving. Aaron doesn’t look at you when he gets his clothes back on. His eyes land to his phone, obviously spammed with a number of messages and calls that have been ignored for the entire night.

“ _ Shit _ .” 

“Something wrong?” you ask at last.

He shakes his head. “Nah. I gotta go.”

“Of course.” You smile and lead him to the door. He returns your expression with something containing less energy. Before you see him off, you take his hand. “You sure everything’s okay?”

Aaron doesn’t answer right away. He looks at his phone, then at you, then sighs. “Yeah, I’m sure. I really gotta go.”

“I know, I know,” you say, taking a step back. “You have a good night, alright? I’ll buy drinks next time I see you. Maybe some more food, too.”

“Yeah, sounds good.” He smiles wider, leaning in for one more kiss that stays on your lips, even when he pulls back. That’s different, too. “I’ll come find you.”

You nod, hopeful. “Be safe.”

He nods back wordlessly. You see him off quickly and shut your door, going back to your couch to clean up anything else and turn your TV back to cable, where there’s yet another story about the city being shaken by a spike in crime since the death of Spider-Man the other day. That’s right--you’ve been around long enough here to actually witness the fall of New York’s hero. A shame, really. Though, you can hope someone else can come around a step up to help make this place more livable. A little hope never hurt anybody. It certainly doesn’t hurt you.

With that feeling in your chest, you hope Aaron comes and finds you soon. You’ll be waiting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and a shoulder touch are greatly appreciated. <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://peachofwork.tumblr.com)


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